


Fall

by StAnni



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: The comments, as they usually do with Bruce, start small – mentions here and there, to Selina, to Gordon, to anyone in earshot of Dent’s political aspirations, of how he would use anyone, even a beautiful young clerk in his office and her family ties in the legal fraternity, to get where he wants to be.  Selina just doesn’t mention the sadly obvious – that Bruce, himself, uses every warm body around him to get what he wants, all the time.  Bruce is just richer and more charming.





	Fall

Selina used to love having dinner with Bruce. She used to love the way that he sat up straight, held his wine glass. She used to love to clink the crystal goblet with her silver knife and watch his eyebrows raise slightly. They used to have fun and it wasn’t even that long ago.

It is truly frightening how fast things can change with so little said between them. Now dinners are quiet and she feels unwelcome, when they do talk it is about something that Gordon found about Jerome’s gang or a new weapon that Alfred acquired on the black market. They don’t talk just to talk anymore and she feels blocked off, like even if she did want to talk to him about a note from her mother or how much she worries about Ivy, she wouldn’t be able to, she wouldn’t have the right to. Mostly it is annoying, to the point of wanting to pull her hair out in frustration, but it is also, infuriatingly, painful. 

She finds herself feeling dull and empty these days – like Bruce could blow on her and she would be gone. And then sometimes she does wish she could be gone, that she didn’t have to vie or even care for his attentions. She wishes she wasn’t alone and that he wasn’t it for her, he wasn’t her best friend, her partner and her life - and that like him, she had more.

In particular a particular subject has been slowly breaking away at her and his mention of it, slowly, slowly spider-cracking through her heart. Harvey Dent.

Bruce has been, not that he would notice obsessive behavior in himself, obsessed with Harvey Dent, and specifically, the age difference between Harvey Dent and his paramour, Rachel Whatever – Bruce’s kindergarten sweetheart. 

The comments, as they usually do with Bruce, start small – mentions here and there, to Selina, to Gordon, to anyone in earshot of Dent’s political aspirations, of how he would use anyone, even a beautiful young clerk in his office and her family ties in the legal fraternity, to get where he wants to be. Selina just doesn’t mention the sadly obvious – that Bruce, himself, uses every warm body around him to get what he wants, all the time. Bruce is just richer and more charming.

Then later Dent’s name pops up in almost every second conversation – it is as if Bruce can magically navigate any exchange to allow for a reference to, what he believes, is a nefarious prosecutor. 

The frustrating part, the part that actually does hurt, is that if Bruce was, in fact, suspicious of Dent being involved in anything actually villainous, he would have investigated Dent himself. And he hasn’t. And he won’t.  
Because of Rachel.

So now dinners are turning into quiet separate stewing sessions, where Bruce, oblivious of Selina, oblivious of Alfred, oblivious of the world – focuses his thoughts on Dent, and Selina, irritated with Bruce, irritated with Alfred (why can’t he just slap Bruce up the back of the head?) and irritated at the world (why can’t Dent just slap Bruce up the back of the head) – focusing all her thoughts on not focusing her thoughts on Bruce.

Then the fundraiser happens and Selina, wearing a dress she is not comfortable in, next to a man she no longer feels comfortable with, have to watch Bruce watch Rachel watch Dent and it is too much. It is just too much. She tosses her champagne over the side of the building and walks towards the door, not even bothering to tell Bruce where she is going.  
Of course he catches her arm, and looks at her surprised “Selina, what’s wrong? Where are you going?” and if it wasn’t for the fact that she might be arrested and she doesn’t have her whip with her, she would have punched him in the face. “I’m done here, Bruce. I’m going.” 

He catches up with her at her apartment. Somehow (secret motorcycle probably) he reaches her loft before she gets there and he is waiting in front of her door already.  
She walks up severely irritated - the long ridiculously shiny dress chinking and swishing and having made her trip more than three times on the way up. When she sees him she rolls her eyes openly and pushes past to get to the door. “Go home, Bruce, seriously – I’m not in the mood for a fight.”  
Bruce, apparently piqued at not having every single thing in his life eloquently explained to him, gives her a stunned look and raises his arms in defeat “Selina, what the hell? You’ve had an attitude all day, what is wrong with you?”

He is very, very lucky she doesn’t have her whip.

With Bruce, Selina has learned, patience is a lifesaver. Because it is not always possible to marry that beautiful, boyish, serious face to the shit that comes out of his mouth. And, she knows, it is not always possible for Bruce to always be a polished gentleman, sometimes the brat wins through.  
“Bruce. Can we talk tomorrow?” She asks, and Bruce, nothing if not adamant, shakes his head “No. No, Selina. Tell me what’s going on.”

She sighs and pushes open her door, indicates for him to go on through, and then slams it shut behind them.

Bruce, to his credit, doesn’t say anything about the mess. But then, she hasn’t been to her place in weeks.

“You’re not coming home tonight?” He asks, quietly.

It hurts, it is like a knife in her chest, to hear him call it “home” in the sense that it is her home too. Because it is her home, in the sense that Bruce is her home. And he knows that, he clearly knows that – so why doesn’t he realize what he is doing to them, to her home.  
She shakes her head “I don’t think I’m going to do that.”

Bruce frowns, wounded and his voice is softer, pleading “Selina, just tell me what is going on.”

So it’s time to jump and Selina knows that there may be no solid ground to break her fall.  
“Why do you think Dent is an asshole?” She tries, taking off some of the jewelry and undoing her hair. Bruce is careful, she can see, and it stings, knowing that he knows that he should be careful in answering her. “I just don’t like him.”  
“Wow, what an asshole.” She sighs and Bruce shakes his head, not finding it amusing “I never called him an asshole.”  
But it’s not about semantics and she knows, she can see, that Bruce knows exactly where this is heading and the fact that he hasn’t just capitulated, is utterly insulting.

“I know why he bothers you.”  
Bruce stares at her, clearly counting his words “Selina, why do you want to talk about Harvey Dent?”  
She shrugs and looks away from him, kicking off her shoes. “Ask me why.” She catches his eyes on her calves as she lifts the dress up to reach the clasp on her left pump, and she drops it – angry. “Ask me” she says, impatient.  
Bruce, as always, meeting her anger head-on, snaps back, per-emptively “Just say what you want to say, Selina.”

The distance that has grown between them, the extent of it, emotionally, is like a punch to the gut, and she shakes her head - partly in disbelief at how foolish she has been and party in disbelief in how she really, cannot, say what she wants to say to him. Not anymore. There really might not be solid ground here.

“Don’t deny it. Don’t lie. Don’t make me feel crazy on top of this. I know how it feels when you’re there…and I know how it feels when you’re not.”

He knows. The confusion is momentarily, not even a second, but then she sees the realization flash across his face and he takes a step towards her (where she immediately takes a step back), he talks to her as if she is a deer about to run away “Selina, Rachel is just a friend. And I am worried about her being with Dent, and yes, that is why he bothers me.” It is painful at how close he is, just how close to admitting the truth, to both of them. “But us…what we have is separate.”

“How?” she asks finally, at a loss – because, how? How is she separate? How does he think that she is not affected by this? How, unless he removes her, which he clearly and with hideous precision has done already, is she unaffected?

He doesn’t answer, because he can’t give her any other answer than the one that she knows already. 

There is so little left of them, they are so far apart – what is one more step? “Are you in love with her?” She doesn’t want to look at him when she asks him, she doesn’t want to ask him. She doesn’t want him there, she doesn’t want to be Selina, she doesn’t want to know him anymore. Because all of his answers are clear from the way that he looks at her now, with such sore and agonizing humility. “I don’t know.”

Once, maybe not just one, but still – long ago – she clinked a silver knife on a crystal goblet and Alfred nearly had a heart attack. She giggled and Bruce lifted his eyebrows at her, playfully – smiling. Once she knew another Bruce and she was another Selina. And maybe those days never even happened.

She walks to the door – the ridiculous dress dragging behind her. She opens it, not looking at him. Never looking at him every again.

“Don’t come back here again.” She says, numb and tired now. Maybe if she falls asleep, and she wakes up, she will stop falling.


End file.
